Escape
by Miss Vannix
Summary: After taking a bullet for his teammate, werewolf Eliot Spencer is sent to Purgatory, where he meets legendary Dean Winchester. Working together, they fight to escape before the only human soul in Purgatory is extinguished. (Dean/Eliot)


**Hey y'all! I'm back with another one shot. Okay, I'm placing Eliot in the position of Benny. Eliot is a werewolf who served in Moreau's pack for a bit. Eliot has been gone for a year and a half, and he comes back in the beginning of season five of Leverage. Supernatural is still in the same timeline. Any questions, feel free to message me or just ask in the reviews. Special thanks to my beta-reader and co/author who helped me write this. _Phoenixofthelostandforgotten._ Please enjoy!**

 **Lots o' love,**

 **Miss Vannix.**

* * *

Eliot sighed at the desolate landscape before him. The world had taken on a gray hue, even the trees surrounding him. He could hear a stream in the distance. He also heard the rustling, the whispering around him. Whispers about the great Eliot Spencer, the werewolf who had hunted and sent his own kind into this bleak _Hell_ for supernatural creatures.

This had to be Purgatory. And if his suspicions were correct, _which they probably were,_ then Damien Moreau had killed him, and he had no idea what had happened to his team. What Moreau had decided to do to them, the heartless bastard. He couldn't protect his team. He wanted to scream at the bleak sky. _Dammit, I need to protect my family!_

Eliot went still and kept his nose in the air. He couldn't smell anything, his nose seemingly blocked. He dropped into a crouch when something stepped out of the forest.

"The great Eliot Spencer has decided to join us for eternity!" a deep voice called out.

He wanted to groan. He knew this voice. Hell, he'd taken this werewolf out himself over ten years ago. He stared at the man in dirty jeans and a ripped t-shirt before him.

"Mitchell," he stated blandly. He hadn't much cared for the werewolf in front of him. The hit was an order from Moreau. He had to take him out-the dog was selling the secrets of the pack. He was just another mark.

The werewolf smiled at him, showing dirty teeth and cracked lips. His sharp blue eyes raked over Eliot's tense frame. "So, I'm guessing Moreau got tired of you." It was a statement, not a question.

Eliot didn't answer, just shrugged. "Something like that."

Mitchell lost his smile and took a step forward. "Watch where you tread, Spencer. Half the wolves in here, you've taken out on your own terms. The other half on the orders of Damien Moreau. We've decided to have… mercy, on you. We're giving you a head start before we hunt _you."_

Eliot didn't comment, but stepped forward. "You were always too soft, Mitchell." He ripped the axe out of Mitchell's hand. "I'll be taking this as well." He didn't give the other wolf the time to answer, but headed for the stream, leaving the baffled man behind him.

Since Eliot knew Mitchell and his rag-tag group thought that he would go the opposite direction of the stream, as it was what he'd normally do to throw someone off, he followed the stream until it pooled into a small pond. He crouched and dipped his cupped hands into the cool, clear water. Splashing it on his face helped clear his mind more.

 _The shot had come from the back, hitting him directly in the heart. He remembered seeing the sun catch the metal barrel from the corner of his eye. The weapon had been perched on an open car window. He roared at Hardison to get down, and had turned to shove him to the ground when he heard the shot go off. He knew he would survive. Regular weapons couldn't kill a werewolf, after all. Especially not one as powerful as shot went directly through his heart, hitting the wall in front him with a sharp thud and a spray of crimson. He felt a harsh burning sensation, more than he should have from just being shot. The bullets were silver. He collapsed to his knees, pressing a hand to the wound. He struggled to breathe, but he couldn't seem to make his lungs respond. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt a chill creeping into his numbing limbs._

 _Suddenly Hardison was there, screaming at him. He couldn't hear what he was shouting through the muffled ringing in his ears. He could barely keep his eyes open. He vaguely felt Hardison supporting him, holding him off the sidewalk. He stared up into Hardison's big, tear-filled eyes. He was still speaking to him, probably saying something cliché and optimistic. Eliot wanted to tell him to shut up, but couldn't form the words._

 _His vision tunneled, and finally some of Hardison's garbled speech translated into words._

" _Eliot! Stay with me! You can't leave us, you can't! We need you!"_

…

Eliot heard the rumors surrounding the door leading out of Purgatory. The only thing he needed was a human and a spell. Cause those things were so easy to find in this shithole. Finding the spell was going to be easier than the human. Actually, all he needed to do for that was beat the everloving crap out of Mitchell.

He landed a punch to Mitchell's solar plexus. "Tell me what it is!" he roared at the other wolf.

He kept a death grip on the wolf's shoulders as he doubled over and gasped for air. "You son of a-"

Eliot sharply kneed the other wolf in the nose, smiling grimly at the satisfying crunch. Blood poured out of Mitchell's nose and down onto Eliot's knee. He inwardly growled at yet another bloodstain on his jeans (it's not like he brought a change of clothes to the afterlife), but outwardly kept his cool. "What were you going to say about my Mother?"

The other man cried out. "Okay, Spencer, okay! I'll tell you!"

Eliot shook his head as he shoved Mitchell away from him. He'd always been easy to break, and it was one of the reasons why he'd been so low-ranking in the pack. Mitchell was a weakling.

"Okay, start talkin'."

…

Dean Winchester landing in his lap was unexpected, but welcomed. He was his ticket out. The hunter was in a dark clearing, his senses muddled. Eliot stood just inside the tree line, watching the hunter scramble for purchase on the new landscape. He called out again and again for someone named 'Cas.'

Other creatures were circling the hunter, drawing closer, jaws snapping at the thought of having a Winchester for dinner. After all, the Winchesters had put more of these monsters in here than any other hunter family. Eliot watched the other creatures in the tree line closely, mostly the two vampires who were gunning for the Winchester's throat. Eliot made his move. Descending silently from his place in the trees, he slid up from behind the hunter and easily dispatched the vampires.

Dean spun on his heel and looked at the man in front of him. His savior finished ripping the head off a vampire who had been sneaking up on him. The man had shoulder length brown hair, big blue eyes, and a square jaw that could cut glass. He was broad shouldered and about three inches shorter than Dean. He wasn't ashamed to admit he noticed this in all of ten seconds.

The man was very attractive. And, judging by his bloodied hands and clothes, very dangerous as well. Dean visibly swallowed. "You gonna try to kill me now, too?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Eliot studied the taller man, and slowly shook his head. "I'm Eliot Spencer. I, uh, actually need your help," he stated in a way of an answer.

Eliot didn't know what had gotten into him. His eyes had connected with the Winchester's, and his world had… zoned in on the hunter. Green eyes that had a fire burning behind them, lips just _made_ for kissing, and a jawline any man would kill for. Eliot shook himself out of his study of the hunter, and grabbed the other man's elbow.

"Look, these creatures in here are gunning for some fresh blood. I really can't afford for you to be killed." He jerked on the hunter's arm.

Dean's gut told him to follow the legend. "Eliot Spencer. There's a lot of talk about you," Dean stated.

Eliot just shook his head and broke into a sprint, the other creatures giving chase. The hunter easily kept pace with him. Eliot effortlessly dodged the blade thrown at him, not bothering to look back as the knife lodged into a tree. He took a circular route, doubling back and crossing his own trail twice before walking upstream for a full mile, then turning and walking back to the spot he had claimed as 'his.'

Dean gulped down air as they came to a stop in front a small cave hidden behind some trees. Eliot led the way to the opening. There wasn't much inside the cave, just an array of weapons and a pallet where he could sleep if he so chose. Eliot let go of his elbow as he stooped down to enter the cave, sliding down the side of the cave to sit at the opening. He gestured for Dean to come in.

Dean sat a few feet away from Eliot. "So, how'd you end up here?" Dean asked absentmindedly, pulling a silver knife from his boot and twirling it between his pointer finger and thumb.

Eliot watched the other hunter from the corner of his eye. "Someone got a lucky shot. Silver bullet, straight through the heart," he muttered under his breath. No use in lying to the hunter.

Dean stilled, the knife resting on his knee. "You're not human?" he asked quietly.

Eliot snorted. "I wasn't turned, if you're wondering. I was born into this. My family is one of the rare wolf families who didn't eat human hearts. We survived off of animals, had us a farm and everything. I'm telling you, Winchester, I've never tasted human blood." Well, that wasn't quite true. He'd once bitten off a man's thumb, though at his own request. Eliot had never seen anyone so desperate to escape a prison, even if it was in Siberia.

Dean looked closely at the other hunter and realized he believed him. He prided himself on his ability to spot liars. Everyone had a tell; it was simply a matter of finding them. It was like a game of poker. "So, you hunted your own kind?" he asked, setting the knife down between his spread legs.

"You could say that. I was in a pack over a decade ago. Some of the worst things I've ever done, I did for that Alpha. But, yes. When a werewolf stepped out of line, I would hunt them down and shove a silver knife through their heart. My job is to protect the innocents from monsters like me." Eliot looked out into the dim twilight.

They were wading into chick flick territory, but Dean couldn't bring himself to stop the conversation, to lighten it up.

"So, why are you in here, Winchester? You're obviously human," Eliot asked suddenly, turning to look at the hunter.

"I stabbed Dick Roman in the neck, and when he exploded, his ass dragged me and my angel friend here." Dean cracked a smile.

Eliot's brow furrowed, but he didn't comment.

"So, why do you need my help?" Dean asked.

Eliot turned fully towards the hunter. "Look, I have a team on the outside I need to protect, and I can't do that if I'm stuck here. I have a spell, a door that leads to the outside. Problem is, only a human can go through it. That's what I need you for. You say the spell, I hitch a ride, and we both get out of here."

He could see Dean work through the plan in his head. "One condition though. I need to find the angel I came in here with."

"Deal," Eliot said with his first real smile since he'd landed in Purgatory.

…

The hunt for Dean's angel was tiring. They had searched every corner of Purgatory, but there was no sign of him. There were fights along the way, of course. Leviathans after Dean, wolves after Eliot. Dean quickly noticed that more often than not, Eliot was throwing himself in front of blows meant for Dean, leading to a near miss with a machete that nearly decapitated him. If it wasn't for Dean pulling the other man back, it would have.

Gripping the wolf's shoulders, Dean was in his face, roaring. "What are you thinking, Spencer? You almost lost your head!"

Eliot shoved the hunter's hands off of his shoulders, grabbing the other man by the collar of his leather jacket and pinning him against the nearest tree. "What I'm thinking is that you're our only chance out! I can't die again, but _you_ can. So, I'm gonna have your back even _if_ it means losing my head, and you're gonna _let me,_ whether you like it or not," he growled at the hunter.

Dean stared at the wolf who had him pinned against the rough bark of the tree, Eliot's leg slotted between his own, nearly nose to nose. Dean wasn't focused on what he was saying, more concentrated on the way his lips formed the words. Eliot noticed quickly that Dean wasn't paying attention to his speech.

"Dean?" he asked.

Dean suddenly closed the space between them, pressing his mouth against Eliot's, lips soft and responsive. Dean didn't hear his axe hit the ground by his foot as it fell from his fingers, his hands coming up to frame the other man's face, index fingers sliding over Eliot's ears and thumbs caressing his cheeks. His tongue slid across Eliot's bottom lip, tasting sweat along the soft skin. His teeth nipped at the corners of his mouth. Eliot's hold on Dean went from holding him against the tree to pulling him closer, hands sliding under the leather jacket.

Eliot was the first to pull away, his breathing uneven and his skin flushed. He looked up at Dean, his green eyes hooded. Eliot could feel Dean's heart thumping under his palm as he stepped away from the hunter. He bent down and picked up Dean's discarded weapon, handing it to him handle first.

"We need to keep moving. Have to get back to the cave before darkness falls," Eliot stated gruffly and began in the direction of the cave.

…

Eliot led the way to the door. There wasn't much to the area, just a flat rock face, as barren as the rest of Purgatory. Dean stood to his right and a step behind him, where Eliot demanded he stay at all times. It was the best way to protect the stubborn hunter. Dean hadn't liked it, but after almost taking an arrow to the chest, he had learned his lesson. Eliot's hand still ached from where the weapon had gone through, after he'd thrown it out to stop the flying projectile from reaching its intended target.

Eliot began to slow his pace, ears perking up as he heard the footsteps and heavy breathing surrounding them. He came to a full stop in the middle of the rock, his arm shooting out to catch Dean in the chest. Dean went still, one hand gripping his handmade blade, the other reaching up to lay against Eliot's shoulder.

"We got company," Eliot muttered as he stepped fully in front of the hunter.

"For you or me?" Dean asked as he put his back against the wolf's.

Eliot growled. "I don't know." He couldn't smell a damn thing in this fucking place; his strongest sense had been taken from him.

They attacked from all sides, a mixture of wolves, vampires, Leviathans, shifters, and black dogs. It was everything they had ever hunted, and there were over fifty of them. And only two hunters. Eliot and Dean didn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell.

Claws and teeth tore viciously through soft flesh, machetes and handmade blades slicing precisely through fur and slimy skin. It was a dance. A complicated dance of sweat, blood, and gore. Eliot took a step forward, Dean took a step backward, arms swinging to block claws and thrust forward to land a hit. Though they were holding their own, Dean was tiring quickly. They had never faced so many monsters at once.

Eliot seemed to notice the hunter's fast draining strength. "Break for the trees when you have an opening," Eliot roared over the howls and screams of the creatures. He hoped the hunter would listen to him and make a run for it. He felt the instant Dean left his back, leaving him surrounded with creatures.

Dean hated leaving the wolf behind in the middle of a fight they both knew he was going to lose. He threw a look over his shoulder once, but couldn't see anything through the thickness of the trees. Then he looked forward once more and nearly tripped as he came to a skidding stop.

"Cas?" he whispered.

The angel stood in front of him, blue eyes wary and facial hair grown out into a scraggly beard. His trench coat was torn beyond repair and his once white hospital clothes were a dark brown.

Dean jumped slightly as the angel suddenly appeared mere steps from him, his hand gripping the hunter's chest over his heart. Dean gave a shaky chuckle as he tried to pry the angel's hand off his chest.

"Cas. We talked about per-"

Castiel interrupted him. "It's true… The rumors were true. Dean, you have to get back to the wolf. Now! Before it's too late." Cas shoved his shoulder, succeeding in making the hunter stumble a few steps.

"Cas, what the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed.

"I can distract the monsters, but you have to move fast, Dean. Eliot is not doing well."

Dean's stomach dropped as he turned and ran in the direction he came. His mind was filled with thoughts of the wolf. _Is he even alive? How long would it take for his spirit to come back? I shouldn't have left him behind._ The last thought made him shake his head. He and Eliot had been fighting through Purgatory for so long that he had begun to… Follow every order Eliot threw at him. He trusted Eliot with every fiber of his being.

Dean broke through the trees, and his bad feeling was confirmed. Eliot was lying supine on the flat rock, blood seeping through the front of his shirt. Dean could see the gouges even from where he was standing. He also noticed the distinct lack of monsters. Dean dropped to his knees beside the wolf and saw that he was breathing. Barely.

As he drew the wolf into his arms, he sighed with relief when he saw some of Eliot's superficial wounds beginning to stitch themselves back together. Good. He was already healing.

…

Eliot's world swam in blissful darkness. There was no pain, and he was grateful. Suddenly, something soft, warm, and wet was placed against his neck. His back arched, and sharp pain shot through his chest, making him groan. A hand was pushing against his shoulder, forcing him to lay flat.

"Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself," a deep voice rumbled in his ear.

 _Dean_. He slowly opened his eyes to see the hunter nose to nose with him, sharing air. One hand was still pressed against his shoulder, forcing him to lay flat. Dean's other hand was gently making its way down his chest, brushing around the injuries he had received. Eliot then realized he was completely naked. He could feel himself begin to harden.

"Dean. What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I almost lost you today. And don't start, I know you'd come back. Still doesn't change the fact you were dying. I'm gonna have my way with you, and you're gonna let me," Dean murmured against Eliot's neck, and then sucked lightly on his collarbone.

Anything Eliot would have said slipped out of his mind, and he moaned low in his throat. His hands came up to grasp at Dean's shoulders, then slid down his arms until they landed on his bare thighs. The hunter was naked too, straddling his hips. Eliot's member ached from where it was pinned between Dean's stomach and his own. His fingers dug into the muscle of Dean's thighs, his body on fire as the hunter pressed his lips against Eliot's in a carnal kiss.

Dean tore his lips away from Eliot's and rose up on his knees. Eliot's back arched as Dean grabbed his member, lining himself up and sliding down until Eliot bottomed out. Dean was _so_ tight around him, and Eliot couldn't help the low moan that slipped out as Dean slowly began to ride Eliot's member. He reached up and roughly tugged Dean down, crushing their mouths together in a scorching kiss. Dean's hands carded through his hair, his fingers curling around the strands and holding tight.

Dean's legs wrapped around the wolf's hips, and he began to move faster as he chased his own completion. Eliot knew that Dean was close. He reached between their chests, grabbing Dean's member. With a slide and squeeze of his hand, Dean roared his pleasure into Eliot's shoulder. Eliot came a few seconds later as Dean's muscles spasmed around him, his hands digging into the hunter's shoulder blades. His wolf wanted to claim Dean. It roared at him to sink his teeth into Dean's neck, leave his mark on the hunter forever.

Eliot growled low in his throat and clutched Dean closer, pulling him into his chest and burying his face into his neck and drawing several deep breaths. He couldn't smell the hunter, and it pissed him off even more. He didn't even know what Dean smelled like. The hunter was curled into his chest, breathing heavily.

"We are _so_ doing that again." Dean stated on a half laugh.

…

The pair once again made their way to the door. Oddly enough, Purgatory seemed to be quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Eliot strained to hear anything as he stepped out onto the flat rock, his eyes searching the forest around them for any signs for an attack. One hand gripped his axe, his knuckles white. The other arm was stretched out behind him, fingertips brushing Dean's chest.

He could feel the hunter's heartbeat thud against his fingers, and it spurred him to walk on. They stopped in the middle of the rock, and Eliot turned towards Dean. "Okay, remember. I say the incantation, and you cut your arm. I then get sucked into your body, and you just… walk through the door," he reminded Dean, and turned towards him just in time to see him roll his eyes.

"I know what to do, Eliot. We've went over this how many times? I just- I just wish I knew where Cas was." He sighed heavily.

Eliot understood what Dean was going through. He had to leave his comrade behind. Dean had prayed over and over to his angel, only to hear nothing in return. Eliot had seen the broken look on Dean's face when he realized that Cas wasn't going to answer anytime soon, and settled on telling him that they were leaving Purgatory when the 'sun' was at its highest point in the dreary sky. Dean stared expectantly at the woods, like the angel was going to pop out at any moment.

Dean finally shook his head and turned towards him, his eyes showing the worry he felt. He motioned with his hand for Eliot to start the incantation.

"Dean, we can wait for a few more minutes," Eliot said. They didn't have much time, but they could spare a few minutes, even if Eliot had a terrible sense of foreboding which slowly grew with each passing second.

"No, we can't," Dean stated roughly, and again gestured for Eliot to start.

Eliot began to recite the Latin words, each one rolling easily off his tongue. Halfway through, Dean cut a clean, straight line across his left forearm. Blood rolled in rivulets down his pale skin until they pooled in his open palm, then spilled to mix with Eliot's dried blood on the rock. Eliot finished the incantation, and everything was silent, still. His brow furrowed.

"Maybe you said it wrong, Spencer," Dean muttered.

"No, I didn-" The wind picking up cut him off.

He smiled as he grabbed Dean's hand. "I'll see you on the other side, hunter."

Dean smiled back at the werewolf and gripped the shorter man's hand tighter, pulling him into his embrace and pressing his lips to Eliot's. He was still kissing the wolf as his spirit was drawn into the cut. Dean winced and grabbed his arm as the wound healed, and watched Eliot's spirit twist and turn under his skin.

"God dammit. I'm so paying you back, wolf. This stings like a bitch," Dean growled down at his arm, still gripping the appendage.

He could faintly hear Eliot's deep chuckle.

Dean looked up suddenly as Purgatory's landscape ripped open from sky to dirt, a black hole with jagged edges. He took a step towards the door, but a branch breaking from his left made him stop and cock his head. "We've got company," he whispered.

 _Dean, you stop now, you're going to have to fight them. They're far enough away. They can't get to you fast enough, if_ _you move_ now _. I can't protect you from in here._ Eliot's voice floated through his mind.

Dean nodded and made to sprint for the door, the wind now howling around him. A sharp pain in his right shoulder made him stop and look down. An arrow was sticking out of his leather jacket, buried about two inches into the muscle of his shoulder. He could hear Eliot roar distantly in his mind, his anger wrapping around Dean.

 _Dammit! I can't do anything from in here!_

Dean could now hear the fear in the wolf's voice, and he realized the fear wasn't that he wouldn't get out of Purgatory, no. It was about not being able to _protect_ Dean. He was scared Dean was going to be killed. Dean snorted at the thought. _If he only knew._ Dean ripped the wooden arrow out of his shoulder, flinching slightly.

"Dean, _go!"_ a voice called from behind him.

Dean turned and Cas was behind him, ripping the head off a vampire, which fell at his feet and rolled until it stopped beside a bow. "Dean, the door is going to close! You have to go _now_!" Cas roared above the wind.

"Not without you, Cas! No man left behind!" he yelled back.

Cas was next to him in an instant, pushing him to stumble through the doorway. Dean watched as the angel stepped away from him with a small smile. "I'll see you again, Dean. I'm protecting you from here, making sure nothing can follow you through."

Dean went to object, but his eyes widened as he saw four Leviathans step behind the angel. "Cas!" His voice went unheard as the door began to close, dragging him in with it. " _CAS!"_

The last thing Dean saw in Purgatory was his friend getting a punch to the stomach, and then a knee to the face.

…

Dean stood almost five feet in Eliot Spencer's grave in the Riverview Cemetery in Portland, Oregon, deep within the graveyard, away from the public eye. "They chose a good spot, your team. I don't have to worry about anyone seeing me," Dean huffed to the spirit residing in his arm.

Dean didn't know much about Eliot's team, only that they helped people when the law couldn't. They were different from hunters, yet they weren't. They didn't play by the rules, the laws. That's where Eliot had stopped, distracted Dean by pressing his lips against his. Dean hadn't brought it back up.

 _They're good like that._ Eliot's voice had pride in it.

Dean smiled as he continued to dig, though the smile quickly turned into a grimace as he winced, looking down at his forearm as it began to burn like someone had poured acid on the skin, and it was eating down to the bone. "Can you lay off with trying to tear through my arm, Fido? I'm working as fast as I can," Dean groused at his arm, digging faster.

Eliot's low growl reverberated through his skull. _I can't help it, Dean. As you get closer to my body, it drags me to it. And call me Fido again and I'll have to hogtie your ass."_

Dean smirked evilly. "You try that, and I'll put you in the old hag next to you. You'll look like wrinkled old Mildred for the rest of your life."

Dean laughed as Eliot went quiet, and he could almost feel Eliot's eyes narrowing. _You remember the incantation to put me back in_ my _body, right?_

Dean rolled his eyes. "You think I want you inside my arm, and _head,_ for the rest of my human life? Of course I remember. I'm insulted you think I'd forget the words you made me memorize for hours straight."

 _I rewarded you in several ways, Winchester,_ Eliot stated.

He didn't reply, but kept his smirk as the tip of his shovel hit wood. "Found it," Dean called, throwing the shovel onto one of the piles of dirt. He straddled the casket and heaved the top lid up. He wrinkled his nose and tried not to look, but still caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye.

After a year and a half buried in a solid oak casket, Eliot's body had turned to mush. Stains on the satin lining testified that his body had not too long ago gone through the "coffin liquor" stage, and it had mostly dried up, though there was still quite a bit of dampness, especially on the body itself. What flesh remained was stretched and leathery, clinging to the wet bones beneath. But even worse was the smell. The putrid stench of rotting meat, combined with the moldy, musty scent that came with a buried corpse of any age.

Dean gulped down air through his mouth. Though Dean had seen many a body, this was Eliot. The man he'd survived Purgatory with, the man he had great sex with. Though he knew Eliot would be back in his body eventually, healed and all, it still made his stomach roll.

Dean quickly recited the incantation, blindly reaching for his knife. Locating it, he wrapped his hand around the wooden handle and drew the blade across his forearm, releasing Eliot from his arm and into his own body. Dean kept his eyes straight ahead as Eliot got seated in his body again, and it healed itself. He finally looked down at his rasped name.

He helped the wolf out of the grave, to the point of pushing on his ass to get him out of the hole. Dean slowly pulled himself out and brushed his dirty hands off on his even dirtier pants. He was engulfed in a hug, nose filled with hair, arms filled with muscle that was Eliot. Eliot's nose was pressed into Dean's shoulder, inhaling the scent of the man who had just brought him back to life. He took a deep breath, taking in the scent of sweat, blood, dirt, leather, wood. It was all Dean.

Something settled within Eliot, and he finally felt at peace with himself. He hadn't felt that way since he'd joined the army. Hell, he'd even go as far as to say he was happy. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way. He was brought out of his thoughts by Dean.

"Dude, I don't mind the hugging, but you smell like death,." Dean wrinkled his nose. "And mold."

Eliot narrowed his eyes and shoved Dean away, but smiled at the hunter. "We made it Dean, we made it."

…

 _6 Months later:_

Eliot watched over his team from a distance, always from a distance. They couldn't know he was alive. He quickly learned that Nate's father had died, Parker and Hardison were in a committed relationship, and it made him smile to see the two happy. Though, there were times that he knew one of the group had said his name or just heard the name _Eliot_ out on the street, and their smiles would drop, and their faces go dark.

He also knew about Hardison's recent purchase: a brewpub. Without him to keep the hacker from doing something stupid, he knew the restaurant would fail within months. He quietly brokered a deal with his old friend Toby. Any of his graduating students were welcome to work at the pub, so long as they kept their act together.

For a while, things were good. The team was happy, taking down bad guys left and right.

He knows immediately when one of their marks are a vampire.

While he was with them, it didn't happen very often, but when it did, Eliot would quietly take the mark out. The team was in enough danger as it was, they didn't need _real_ monsters after them. He growled low in his throat as he saw the sonuvabitch following Parker and Hardison on the darkened street. What were those two doing anyway? He told them never to walk in Portland by themselves at night.

He grabbed the vampire from his position in the alley and dispatched him easily. He glanced down at the bloody body at his feet and went cold at the tattoo on his wrist. This vampire was related to their mark. The mark was sending vamps after the team, and they had no way to protect themselves. Eliot pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. He just hoped he hadn't changed it.

" _Yo. Someone better be dead,"_ the familiar voice said.

Eliot hadn't realized how much he'd missed the hunter until he heard his voice. "Hey, hunter. Feel like helping a lone wolf out?"


End file.
